


Lights, Camera, Chaos

by cowboys_in_space



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternant title to this fic?, Ennoshita needs Coffee, Film, Film makers au, I'm not going through the whole crew you'll learn in chapter 2, Multi, This will emphasize crew, With a side of the characters being REAL HARD TO MANAGE AS CAST AND CREW, because I am film major and like behind the camera stuff, director!daichi, director!ennoshita, ennoshita suffers, or - Freeform, this is the Haikyuu Quest as a full movie au I've always dreamt of, writer!michimiya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboys_in_space/pseuds/cowboys_in_space
Summary: Ennoshita Chikara had always wanted to be a director. That said, he would rather have done it on his own terms than have Sawamura Daichi suddenly quit his film and dump the job of director onto Chickara. Now it is up to him to corral an unruly cast and crew that he didn't even choose, and make a film everyone can all be proud of.It would be nice if everyone else at least tried to make this easier on him.
Relationships: Ennoshita Chikara & Everyone, Ennoshita Chikara & Michimiya Yui, Ennoshita Chikara & Oikawa Tooru, Ennoshita Chikara & Sawamura Daichi, Ennoshita Chikara & Ushijima Wakatoshi, I will update as they become more relevent, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. Sawamura Daichi is Bad at Communication

Sawamura Daichi was 29 years, 3 months, and 2 days old when he announced a decision that would change both his and Ennoshita Chickara’s lives forever.

“What do you mean you’re quitting film?!” Chickara cried, quite certain that he had misheard his long-time boss-turned-best-friend. 

He had not.

Someone shot Chickara a look from the table next to theirs. Chickara hastily picked up his coffee and took a sip, knowing that a cafe was the worst possible place Daichi could have picked.

“I mean,” Daichi said, voice patient in the way one's voice might be while explaining that one plus one equals two to a particularly stubborn toddler for the seventh time, “I'm leaving film to direct a stage play.” 

“No you're not,” Michimiya Yui said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. Daichi leaving his latest production would also affect Yui’s life forever, but she was not yet aware of it. All that she knew was that it certainly would change the next year of her life quite a bit as she had written the screenplay for the movie Daichi was supposed to be directing.

Daichi gave both of them a pitying look, which did him no favors in either of their books. “I’m sorry, but my mind is made up. The theatre troupe I’m joining is about to premier a magnificent play by a well known author, and with hard work, we could be touring all around the country. This is an opportunity I just couldn’t refuse.”

Chickara knew this was bad. First, months of Daichi seeming more distant than usual, and now this. Chickara wanted to shake Daichi by the shoulders and force him to explain what was going on. 

He started to tear up his napkin instead.

“That doesn’t-” Yui started, too loud. Chickara touched her arm, imploring her not to make a scene. She shrugged him off, staying at the same volume. “That doesn’t matter, Daichi! What matters is that you’ve already made a commitment to our film. You can’t call off shooting three days before the production, that’s not how this works. All these people -- actors, gaffers, PAs -- hell, even me and Chickara! -- won’t be able to get another job short notice!”

The other customers were definitely staring at them. Chickara slid a little lower in his seat. 

“Yui, try not to make a scene” Daichi said as Chickara tried his hardest to disappear.

“Don’t patronize me,” Yui snapped. “If you didn’t want a scene, you shouldn’t have dropped this on us in public! I would expect something this stupid of Tooru, but--”

“For your information,” Daichi interrupted a tad too quickly, “I’m not intending to stop production.” 

That got both of their attentions.

“We don’t have a director,” Chickara pointed out.

“But we do,” Daichi corrected. He leaned across the table, eyes shining with righteous purpose. That couldn’t be good. “Chickara, you’ve been my assistant director for almost seven years now. It’s time for you to have a film of your own.”

“What?!” Chickara squawked. 

“You’re great at keeping things on time, and you make almost as many creative choices in my films as I do,” Daichi explained. “And on top of that --” Daichi sighed. “Honestly? You shouldn’t have worked under me for as long as you have. You’re talented, Chickara, genuinely talented, and I… haven’t pushed you to advance your career. I think it’s because I didn’t want to stop working with you, but that doesn’t make it right. Being a director is your dream, and you’re qualified, and I know you’ll be incredible. But we’ve both become too comfortable with how things are.” Daichi smiled slightly. “We both need to take risks.”

Chickara stared at Daichi, speechless.

“Well that’s nice,” said Yui, breaking the silence, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a well established director, while this is Chickara’s first time!” She tugged at her shirt sleeves anxiously. “This is the first film from our studio to be in theaters! Takada-san and Ukai-san won’t like this.”

“And I’ve already told them,” Daichi said. “They didn’t like it, but they’ve already accepted my replacement.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Chickara said, staring at Daichi like he’d gone mad. “Sure, you could tour, but this film will be in the theaters! This could be your chance to go from having a cult following to a normal following. You’re throwing your career away, Daichi.” At this, Chickara’s tone had turned more pleading. “Do you understand that?”

“This isn’t like you,” Yui said, tugging at her sleeves even harder.

“According to Suga’s estimates, I’ll be making enough money to compensate, and this could bring me enough clout to start a new career.” 

“And how did this ‘Suga’ know all of this?” Yui asked.

“He’s been working with the troup since it was founded,” Daichi said, perking up as he started to talk. “He was the one who pushed for me to get a job with them, and he compiled all of the figures for me to make sure that I knew I wasn’t making a mistake.”

“No offence,” Chickara said, “but why would Suga go through all of the trouble to hire you specifically? Especially since you’ve never directed a stage play before.”

To Chickara’s surprise, Daichi flushed at the question. “Ah, well --”

“IS SUGA THE BOYFRIEND?!” Yui interrupted, leaning across the table. 

Daichi had been seeing someone for over a year now, but was too afraid of Oikawa stalking the boyfriend and chasing him away to tell anyone who knew Oikawa the man’s name, including Chickara and Yui. To be fair, Daichi was right to take precautions. Chickara did not like to think about the “chats” Oikawa had put him through.

Daichi’s face got redder, and he slumped into his seat. That was a ‘yes,’ then.

“So, you’re giving up your livelihood for some guy?” Yui asked, voice going high pitched in concern.

“We knew that if he went on tour, we wouldn’t be able to see each other anymore,” Daichi said. And once he started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “And neither of us are great with technology, so long distance would be torture, and I can’t imagine my life without him anymore. Every time I’ve done anything for this movie, I couldn’t help but wonder what Suga would think, and then wonder how he was doing, and  _ then  _ remember that we might be breaking up soon and I hated it. I have always loved directing, but knowing that Suga was going away, I couldn’t be invested in it the way I’ve always been. I’ve never been one to believe in destiny, so I know that if I let him go, there was a chance that we would never be able to be together again. And I could never ask him to put our relationship before his career, you know? So I asked him if there was a way that I could come with him. And when he came to me with an offer, one where I could keep directing but we could still be together, how could I say no? And then I had no idea how to tell either of you, so I just kept planning and planning for two months, until I finally caved and asked Oikawa how to tell you without you both freaking out--”

“You told Tooru before you told us?” Yui asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t sound as angry (scared) as before. “That explains why we’re doing this in public.”

“You really thought that being in public would make Yui complacent?” Chickara asked. “Listening to Oikawa is always the wrong choice.”

“It is,” Daichi said, looking no less miserable than he had during that whole spiel.

Chickara let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He had been so afraid that Daichi was throwing away his career, his friends, his  _ happiness, _ on some whim. Maybe as some sort of early-onset midlife crisis. But this decision, at its core, was Daichi pursuing what he knew would make him happy. Chickara and Yui made eye contact, and he knew she felt as relieved as he did.

Yui kicked Daichi under the table. He winced.

“It must have been hard, keeping all that angst locked away,” she said. Daichi nodded. “I don’t like how you went about this. You could have talked to us. There was no reason for you to try to keep this a secret.”

Daichi slumped into his seat. “I just… I’m your boss, you know? The one in charge, the one with the plan. I didn’t want to let you guys down.”

“And so you thought the best course of action was to wait until three days before filming to tell us,” Chickara said, leveling Daichi with a look like a librarian might shoot at a group of unruly teens disturbing the quiet peace. Daichi shrunk back. Chickara’s looks must have been getting more powerful. He softened. “Despite your poor execution, we’re not just your employees. We’re your friends, and unless you’re keeping any more secrets, we’re the closest ones you have. And neither of us would want you going through an emotional rollercoaster like that alone. I get that you feel responsible for us, but you don’t have to. We’re grownups, we can handle the fact that you aren’t perfect.” 

“And you were never my boss,” Yui cut in. “You were only the boss of production. And I’m pre-production. So, never my boss.”

“That reminds me, I did want to ask a favor,” Dachi said, attention focused on Yui.

“That can’t be good,” she replied.

“Since this is Chickara’s first time directing, could you help him prepare for his first day?”

“As previously stated, I’m not production,” Yui said.

“And you don’t have to be,” Daichi countered. “I just think it would be good for Chickara to have someone experienced in his court.”

“Honestly,” Chickara said, “it would be nice to have you helping me.” They both turned their pleading looks to Yui. Really, she never stood a chance. These two would surely be the death of her.

“Fine,” she relented. She checked her watch, then sprang to her feet. “It’s already five o’clock, so we’ve got to go. Only three days, and so much to do.”

“Space Quest! won’t direct itself,” Chickara said, getting up slower. It was just starting to dawn on him, that he was actually going to direct a real, feature-length film. 

His excitement built, and a wide grin stretched across his face.

“Once more thing,” Daichi said, as they went to leave. “You’ll want to think about how to break the news to the cast and crew.”

Of course he wouldn’t tell them.

Fuck.


	2. How Bad Can it Be?

“I can’t do this,” Chickara said, hands trembling around the megaphone he clutched far too hard.

“Neither can I,” Yui said, looking green around the gills as she stared out at the mess of crew and actors, all running around in a panic and asking after ‘Sawamura-san.’ Each time that someone said that name, Chickara felt more and more like an imposter. He could not do this. 

Someone draped their arms over both of their shoulders. “Of course you can!” chirped Oikawa Tooru.

“What are you doing here?!” he asked, shrugging the arm off of him and wheeling on Oikawa. “I know the cast list, and you are not anywhere on it.”

“So ungrateful, Enno-chan!” Oikawa pouted, using his now-free arm to wrap Yui in a hug which she looked like she wouldn’t have tolerated if she were any less nervous about being here. “I came here just to support you!”

“Just to support him,” Yui repeated. “Certainly not to flirt with Iwaizumi. Or antagonize Kageyama.”

“Nope!” Oikawa said, popping the ‘p’ unpleasantly. “I’m here solely to support Enno-chan as he spreads his wings and flies for the first time. Well, also to support you in your return to production!” he said, poking her cheek. “Welcome back!”

At that, she finally shoved him off of her. “I am not going to be here for long,” she said. Then, she slapped bother of her cheeks, hard, before rounding on Chickara and slapping his, too.

“Ow!” Chickara yelped, jumping back from her. He tenderly held his hand to his cheek. “What was that for?!” 

“To get you fired up!” Yui said, smiling at him, red slap marks prominent on her cheeks. “Let’s get today’s announcement done quickly, so I can go back to writing my next screenplay!” 

“That’s the spirit!” Oikawa responded. How was it that Oikawa showing up and annoying them kicked Yui into gear? Chickara would never understand how he did that.

The worst part was, Chickara felt better now, too. God damn Oikawa.

Chickara turned on his megaphone, cleared his throat, and held it up. He took a deep breath, before shouting, “Everyone, listen up!” The confused panic quieted down to confused whispering, as they all shifted their attention to Chickara. The person they believed was the director’s  _ assistant _ , and so would have the answers. Why had he thought he could do this?

Yui nudged him, and he shook his head. “I have an announcement to make,” he said. “As I’m sure all of you know, Sawamura Daichi is the man who is currently listed as director of this project. However, as of three days ago, he officially resigned this duty.” The reaction was instant. The confusion turned to anger, and disbelief as people started talking over each other again. 

Chickara looked over at Yui and Oikawa in panic. Oikawa rolled his eyes and grabbed the megaphone. “DO NOT WORRY!” He roared, and the crowd quieted down again, focusing on Oikawa alone. Oikawa then shoved the megaphone back into Chickara’s hands with a murmured, “You’re welcome.” Chickara was not sure whether or not he should be grateful to have everyone’s attention again. He continued speaking nonetheless.

“The loss of Sawamura does not mean that filming will not continue,” Chickara said, voice far steadier than he felt. “I have agreed to take on the title of director, and will make sure to dedicate myself as fully to this project as Sawamura would have in my place.” Not that that would be hard. Honestly, just him not having a Suga in his life made him more committed than Daichi had been.

“Alright, but you’re not Sawamura, though,” a voice from the crowd drawled. 

Chickara locked in on the source of the voice, and a sudden wave of dread overcame him. That was Terushima Yuuji, their handsome,  _ talented  _ main actor who had never turned down a chance to work with Daichi before. Daichi specifically, because he respected Daichi’s effortless leadership style. Chickara was going to be sick.

“I will not pretend to be Sawamura,” Chickara conceded. “It would be foolish to think that just because I spent seven years at his side, our styles of directing would be exactly the same. However, I can say with certainty that I spent those years observing how he directs, and learning from him.”

“Wait, aren’t you the director’s assistant?” another voice asked. This one was Futakuchi Kenji, known around Japan for his abilities with a makeup palette. It didn’t matter if it was subtle or full-on special effects makeup, Futakuchi could do it. Making him someone incredibly valuable to the team.

“I was,” Chickara answered.

“That would make this your first movie, then,” Futakuchi said, crossing his arms.

“My first time directing a feature-length,” Chickara corrected. “I have directed and produced several short films, one of which--”

“I’m sure that’s very impressive,” Terushima interrupted, “but I act because it’s fun. And I can only have fun with a movie when I’m confident in how it will perform.” Chickara’s panic must have shown on his face, because Terushima continued, “It’s nothing against you, man. I just don’t work with first-time directors.” Terushima turned to go.

And Futakuchi followed. He turned back to the crowd, and said, “It’s not worth it to work without knowing how it’ll turn out in the end. I’d suggest that anyone concerned about their career follow us out.”

And follow they did. The hair, the costuming, two more of their lead actors (the main villain and the princess), and yet another actor (a henchman, he'd be easy enough to recast), and a smattering of gaffers and assistants. 

He took stalk of the situation. The rest of the actors had stayed, including, most notably, Shimizu Kiyoko and Kageyama Tobio. That was a relief. They had been the two biggest names outside of Terushima. There was also Kozume Kenma, who -- while this may have been his debut as an actor -- was a popular enough YouTube gamer to pull in his fan base, and wouldn’t quit unless his childhood friend Kuroo Tetsourou did. And Kuroo was just enough of an agent of chaos to look  _ excited  _ by the situation.

So, that left them with their lighting director (Azumane Asahi, a beautiful soul for staying) with one subordinate (a gangly freckled man that Chickara didn't know), Tanaka Saeko on sound, Tsukishima Kei on camera, and four (oof) production assistants.

Chackara made a note to himself to write up a will.

He shook himself, and cleared his throat. Time for some damage control. “To those of you that stayed, thank you. It would appear that we have some new vacancies in the cast and crew.” He took a deep breath. “I think we are able to work with the crew that we have, for the most part, so long as everyone involved works efficiently. I will make sure to fill any essential gaps -- this will mean that we delay the beginning of production for a week, while I get everyone together. In the mean time,” Chickara focused in on his group of production assistants. Three girls, and one guy. “Do any of you have acting experience?” he asked, inwardly cringing as he did. He really didn’t want to lose any more of them, but honestly, having actors was more important.

The guy raised his hand proudly. He was short, with a mess of ginger hair and a certain thrumming energy to his posture that Chickara found intimidating. “My name is Hinata Shouyou,” he proclaimed, “and I played Villager B in elementary school!”

This was going to be rough. “Well, congratulations, Hinata Shouyou, you are now Terushima’s official replacement.” 

Hinata’s eyes sparkled, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “OOH! This is so exciting!” He thought for a moment. “Do I still get to do the things they do?” he gestured to the other production assistants.

“For the most part,” Chickara decided on the spot, trying to sound like he wasn’t bullshitting as he went. “You will be allowed to do more around the production than the other actors will, but likely not as much as the other PAs.” Hinata nodded along, face serious.

“Wait,” another voice said, deadly serious. Chickara inwardly groaned. Kageyama Tobio pushed his way to the front of the crowd, standing tall and crossing his arms, leveling Chickara with a glare. “Are you really going to cast someone who has never acted before as one of the  _ main characters?!”  _

“I’ve acted before!” Hinata piped up. The second that glare was turned on him, he scuttled backwards a bit, startled, and put his fists up. “Y-you looking to fight?” he stuttered out.

“ _ No one  _ is fighting,” Chickara interjected, glaring at the two trouble makers. “And yes, I am going to cast someone who has minimal acting experience, because it is difficult to get replacements on such short notice. At this point, when production is already being delayed, I would rather have someone there, ready and willing than someone experienced who I have to delay further for.”

Kageyama snarled. “I would rather play every part myself than have to act alongside an amateur like him!”

“Then you’re free to leave,” Chickara said. That one threw Kageyama for a loop. He gaped at Chickara, mouth opening and closing, as though trying to find words that just wouldn’t come to him. To be fair, Chickara was probably just as shocked by his own audacity. “If you are going to be uncooperative, if you are going to actively go against my decisions and not so much as try to work with me, then I have no need for you.”

Kageyama’s face flushed, whether with rage or embarrassment, Chickara didn’t know. He nodded once to Chickara, before turning to Hinata and forcing out, “I’ll be watching you.” That was a bit overkill, but likely the best he was going to get. 

Oikawa chuckled, and smirked at Kageyama. “You’re so brash, Tobio-chan!” he sing-songed. “It really is unbecoming.”

“Why are you here?” Chickara sighed, but was shocked to find that he wasn’t the only one asking. Iwaizumi Hajime’s voice had overlapped his own, far more aggressive than Chickara’s. 

Iwaizumi was the Oikawa Whisperer, and therefore an asset to have if you wanted to cast Oikawa. Being childhood friends gave Iwaizumi the near-supernatural ability to keep Oikawa in line. Or at least closer to the line than anyone else could get him.

The fact that Oikawa was in love with him didn’t hurt, but Chickara wasn’t really supposed to know that.

“You’re both so rude!” Oikawa cried in mock offence, placing his hand over his heart. “Is that any way to talk to the man who is going to save this movie?”

“What?” Chickara asked in a monotone, leveling Oikawa an unimpressed look.

“I graciously accept the newly-opened position as the main villain!” Oikawa declared. He then grabbed Yui’s arm and pulled her next to him. “Yui can play the princess!” he volunteered.

Yui tugged her arm out of his grip. “No, I cannot play the princess,” she said, glaring at Oikawa.

A cruel smile lit up Oikawa’s face. “I’ve run lines with you for… how long has it been? Ten years? And so you can’t pretend that you can’t act, because I know better.” He then wrapped his arm around Chickara, turning him to face Yui and squishing his face a bit. “Enno-chan is already having so many hardships with his first movie. Don’t you want to make it a bit easier on him?”

Yui looked torn between her discomfort with being in the spotlight, her fear of messing up production in general, and her desire to help the movie succeed. Chickara honestly felt sorry for her.

Then Iwaizumi hit Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stop trying to manipulate people into your weird schemes,” he said. 

“Mean, Iwa-chan! You’re so mean to me! And you say that  _ I  _ have a bad personality!”

“You do,” Iwaizumi confirmed, ignoring Oikawa’s affronted noises. “Why do you even want to be in this movie?”

“I want to watch Enno-chan succeed!” Oikawa immediately said.

It was then that it hit him. Daichi had essentially gathered all of Oikawa’s favorite people (to annoy) into one cast, and then stuck a director who doesn’t know how to handle him on top. Of course Oikawa wanted to join.

And the worst part was, he was a good enough actor that Chickara would be an idiot not to accept him.

Yui seemed to see the distress building in his face, as she sighed deeply. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll do it. I’ll act.”

Oikawa grinned at her, and the expression honestly looked more gloating than happy. “This is going to be so much fun!” he cried.

Chickara cleared his throat, bringing the megaphone back up. “That leaves just one more role to fill. Does anyone know of someone who can act?”

Tanaka Saeko, of all people, shouted, “Ooh, I have someone!” Chickara nodded for her to continue. “My little brother is a construction worker who’s out for the season!” she exclaimed. “He’s been looking for a job! And he’s really talented, he played Prince Charming in his highschool production of Rodger and Hamerstein’s Cinderella.”

Well, it looked like every actor they had was going to have more acting experience than their lead. 

But Chickara was past the point of no return, and well past the point of caring.

“That sounds perfect,” Chickara said. “You can give me his number and his email, and we can set it up.” Chickara dug around his brain, but couldn’t think of anything else that needed discussing just then. “Alright, rest up everyone, and I’ll see you next week.”

The second he said it, there was a flurry of action. Tanaka (should he call her Saeko now that there would be two Tanakas?) immediately pounced on Chickara, giving him her brother’s contact information. 

Kageyama immediately pounced on Hinata, and the two got into a minor scuffle that Chickara just had to… let happen because the Saeko thing was more important. Luckily, another actor, Aone Takanobu, came to stare at them until they stopped, with surprising effectiveness. 

Chickara made a mental note to thank Aone, and to keep an eye on Kageyama and Hinata. But he was sure that would work itself out soon.

Several other people came up to introduce themselves, like the freckled lighting assistant (Yamaguchi Tadashi, apparently) and the three remaining PAs (Suzumeda Kaori, Shirofuku Yukie, and Otaki Mako). 

Azumane was the only one to congratulate him on his promotion. Even through all the stuttering as he did it, Chickara was really happy that  _ someone  _ recognised that this was a big deal for him. He always knew he liked Azumane.

When all the hubbub died down, and people started to trickle out, Yui laid a hand on Chickara’s shoulder.

“Today went… interestingly,” she said. “At least we’re ready to shoot next week, right?”

Chickara shook his head.

“Enno-chan still has to find hair, makeup, and costuming,” Oikawa helpfully informed. He made a face at Chickara that he was pretty sure was supposed to be pitying, but honestly was just condescending.

Yui patted Chickara’s back sympathetically, and he knew that this was going to be a rough week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have decided that I'm only going to post chapters as I write the chapter 2 ahead of it, so that way I have some stuff to fall back on. Because of this, we have up through chapter 4 in the bag! So even if I completely loose all inspiration, we have that much!  
> Also, next time is when we get to some content that was Not In The Original, so that's fun! Get pumped!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and I'll see you next time!


	3. Compromises and Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking so long to update. 2020 kind of sapped a lot of my creative energy, and I was feeling really uninspired. To be honest, I don't know how much of this is going to end up written, but I missed writing it, so I will ty to start updating again. Thanks to the eleven people who liked it so far, this one is for you!

Chickara had never been as glad to see Kinoshita Hisashi and Narita Kazuhito in his entire life as he was when they logged into his urgent Zoom session.

“What’s up?” Kazuhito asked, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

“No offence, Chickara, but you actually remembering to call us is something seriously panic-inducing,” Hisashi said, raising an eyebrow into his camera.

“I’m not that bad about it,” Chickara lied, slumping a bit in his desk chair.

“Are you wearing business casual?” Hisashi continued, leaning towards his camera and granting Chickara a very unflattering angle of his nose. “As your ex-roommate, I can say with certainty that you will refuse to get out of pajamas unless given a very good reason.” 

Kazuhito’s arm appeared on the screen, pulling Hisashi away from his screen. “No one wants that,” Kazuhito snarked, adjusting his phone as he reached for something out of his kitchen cabinet. 

Chickara balked. “Are you in the same room right now?”

“Well, yeah,” Hisashi said.

“We are roommates, you know,” Kazuhito continued. 

“Then why are you using different cameras?” And how was there no echo?

Hisashi shrugged. “Kazuhito is cooking,” he said, as though that explained everything. Kazuhito nodded from his own screen. They were ridiculous, and for a moment, Chickara really wished he was still living with them. Moving out had made sense at the time, but man did he miss them.

Chickara shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track. “As you’re both so quick to point out, I don’t tend to just call people for no reason. I need a favor.”

Kazuhito looked worried again. “Are you alright? You aren’t being blackmailed by the Mafia or something, are you? Because no offense, but I’m not getting involved with something like that.”

“One time researching the Mafia for a film and that’s all you can think about,” Hisashi teased. “... It’s not the Mafia, is it?”

“Of course not,” Chickara said with a roll of his eyes. “You’d be the last people that I’d go to if it was. You’re both too fragile.”

Hisashi scoffed. “Like you’re not! Most days, you’re so tired that a strong enough breeze would knock you over. Either of us would be much better suited to dealing with the Mafia than you.”

“Says the man who eats vegetables about once a year,” Chickara said, giving the camera an unimpressed stare. 

“Kazuhito, Chickara’s being mean!” Hisashi whined.

“Kids, behave,” Kazuhito said. “You said you needed a favor?”

Chickara took a deep breath. “So, Daichi quit film to go into theater, I’m now directing his movie, and I need someone on hair, makeup, and costuming. We’ve worked together before, so I know I can trust you both. I am offering you the job. Please.”

“Why did Sawamura quit?” Hisashi asked.

“True love or something,” Chickara said. “I know this is short notice, but--”

“Of course we’ll do it,” Kazuhito interrupted, smiling at Chickara. “Honestly, there’s no one we’d rather work with than you.”

“But because it’s such short notice, you get to be my hair and makeup test subject,” Hisashi cut in.

“Deal,” Chickara said immediately.

“If he gets to make you over, I get to dress you up!” Kazuhito chimed in.

Chickara was definitely wary of the two of them giving him a complete makeover, but that would be just one day, some indistinct time in the future, in exchange for a complete film crew. It was so worth it, and such a low price he could cry. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course,” they said in freaky unison.

“So, I’ll see you Monday?”

“See you Monday,” Kazuhito confirmed. 

“And we reserve the right to make you up on any given day, on or off work,” Hisaishi added.

With that, Chickara hung up, and slumped back in his seat. That was it. They had a full cast and a (mostly) full crew. 

For the first time since Daichi had quit, Chickara felt calm.

<><><>

Chickara was going to kill Kazuhito. There was nothing else to do. Because there they were, the first day of filming, and Kazuhito had brought  _ fantasy  _ costuming.

“I’m so sorry, Chickara!” Kazuhito said. “I definitely told the people at my storage facility that I wanted crates G through J, but they pulled B through D.”

“And all the costume makeup I have is for sci fi,” Hisashi said, holding up a pair of bright blue horns and some intensely green eyeshadow to show it.

Chickara rubbed his forehead, trying to fight off the building headache. They were standing in a studio housing a spaceship set, for god’s sake. This was a lot.

“Actors get here in ten,” Saiko said. “Don’t tell me you’re going to push it back-”

“That’s not an option,” Chickara interrupted.

“What are you going to do, then?” Tsukishima asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chickara looked down at the shot list in his hands. They were filming scene six that day, the scene where Iwaizumi joined the party. 

A scene which did not have any dialogue or actions explicitly tailored to space.

“Kazuhito, do you have any fantasy weaponry in your collection?” Chickara asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Kazuhito replied.

Chickara got out his phone and pulled up google maps. There was a park about a ten minute’s walk from there. He clicked on the reviews. It wasn’t very popular.

Perfect.

“Lights, sound, camera, you pack your gear back into the van and head to this park,” he said, holding up his phone. “I’ll stay here with costume and makeup.” Chickara grimaced. “It seems like we’re changing genres.”

<><><>

The next half hour was a mess of chaos and confusion, as actors grabbed props and costumes that they liked willy-nilly and Hisashi desperately tried to wing their makeup to make it look nice. 

“Write down what everyone grabs!” Chickara shouted at Kazuhito, who nodded and took out a notebook.

By the time they were ready to go to the new location, Kageyama was an archer, Hinata a peasant boy with an overly-large sword, Aone a barbarian, Kozume a witch, and Iwaizumi a knight.

It would do.

<><><>

The actual location… worked, Chickara supposed. He could see why the park wasn’t very popular -- the woods were sparse and brambly, rather than lush and green, and there was only a 100 foot walking path through it. Barely enough for a stroll, let alone a hike.

But, that was more than enough space to make it look like just a part of a larger wood with movie magic, and since it wasn’t particularly popular, there were only minimal interruptions. Overall, it worked.

But the best part of all was when they actually got to filming. 

Somehow, miraculously, Hinata was a decent actor. Genuinely, truly decent. It was so beautiful, Chickara could have cried. 

By the time that they wrapped for the day, Chickara felt pretty good about the footage they got. 

And then he remembered the rest of the script. He made a mental note to call Yui.

<><><>

“This is impossible,” Yui moaned, placing her forehead on the keyboard in front of her.

“gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg,” the word document containing their script replied.

Chickara pushed her head off the keyboard and onto the desk. She turned her head cheek-down and looked up at him.

“Are you sure Narita can’t get the right costumes?” she asked.

“It’s too late to do anything about it at this point.” Chickara deleted the string of “g”s. 

Yui groaned, picking herself back up from the desk. “How are we going to motivate them knowing when to invade the enemy camp without them hacking the interspace communications frequency?”

“You mean the deux ex machina that I never liked in the first place?”

“A  _ necessary  _ deux ex machina, that the script doesn’t make sense without. How do they know what day to attack the Great King? How?”

“Dumb luck?” Chickara tried.

“It’s going to be a plot hole, now. People will notice.”

“There are plot holes in everything. Marvel movies are riddled with them, and they break the box office.”

“Yeah, but we’re not Marvel. We’re a glorified indie film. We can’t afford not to be perfect.”

As Chickara was thinking of a response, the doorbell rang. Chickara went to get it, leaving Yui to stew in her misery.

When Chickara opened the door, he was greeted with their producer, Ukai Keishin. He did not look pleased.

“What is this?” Ukai asked, voice low and full of dangerous promise, as he held his phone up to Chickara’s face. A phone which displayed Chickara’s hurried email explaining the entire situation. Chickara winced.

“We had some setbacks-”

“So you thought that changing the entire genre was the best course of action?!” Ukai pushed his way into the apartment and sat down in Chickara’s seat, pulling the keyboard towards himself. “Let’s see what adjustments you’ve made, and maybe --  _ just maybe  _ \-- I’ll consider continuing this project.”

Ukai scared Chickara at the best of times. These were not the best of times. He grabbed a new chair and pulled it up to the other side of Yui, who was now sitting up stick-straight in her own chair.

They watched with bated breath as Ukai read over the script, neither able to tear their eyes away the entire time.

Finally, he sat back in his chair and fixed his gaze on them. “It’s not perfect yet, but I think we can make it work.”

Chickara and Yui let out a sigh of relief. 

“Let’s get editing,” Chickara said.

<><><>

Eight hours, four pots of coffee, and at least seven arguments later, the script was complete. Ukai was curled up on Yui’s couch, and Chickara was trying his best not to doze off sitting upright in his chair as Yui proudly wrote:  _ the end. _

“I’m going to take a nap, see you here in a bit,” Yui said. She looked like she tried to stand up, but fell asleep right where she was sitting. Chickara, ever the opportunist, decided to go claim her bed. It had been a long night.

<><><>

Three hours, a crick in both Yui and Ukai’s necks, and another pot of coffee later, they all three went over the script one more time. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but the script was… good. Better, even.

Chickara was stunned.

“Alright,” Ukai said, standing up. “I won’t pull the project, but I want you to know, you’re on thin ice. Any more slip ups like this, and I will not hesitate to pull the plug.”

Yui gulped.

“I understand,” Chickara said, bowing his head. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ukai said, waving away Chickara’s comment. “I’ve always liked fantasy better than science fiction, anyways. Just make sure I don’t live to regret this.”

With that, Ukai departed.

“Guess we have to send the script to everyone,” Yui said, gesturing to her computer.

“Guess so,” Chickara responded.

Chickara knew that people would not be pleased with a complete revision, including some new scenes and a whole lot of new lines. “Not pleased” turned out to be an understatement. Every single actor was fuming, and understandably so.

Well, everyone except for Hinata, who just responded to the email with “ _!!!!!!!!! _ ”

To each their own, Chickara supposed.

“So, what are we going to do about locations?” Yui asked.

Chickara picked up one of Yui’s pillows and screamed into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I relate to Ennoshita so hard?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thank you so much for reading! This is a re-write of an older work, and can I just say, it is real weird to go back in and actually apply the film knowledge that I have acquired as a film major? It's crazy, I actually know what I'm talking about now. And how unprofessional Daichi is. Wild. Anyways, kudos and comments are my life blood. One kudo is one cup of coffee for Ennoshita, and one comment is a good night's rest. He'll need it.


End file.
